


This Is The Last Time

by lcvelue



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice
Genre: Amezona, Drinking, Drunkenness, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Not Fluff, i might have to apply content warnings, this will progressively get sadder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28665078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcvelue/pseuds/lcvelue
Summary: Amelia begins working at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital and is unaware of her past with Arizona, who thinks on it fondly. Arizona invites Amelia to drinks to catch up.
Relationships: Arizona Robbins/Amelia Shepherd
Kudos: 15





	1. I Said I’d Wait Around ‘Till You Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> This is my first time writing something over two thousand words so hopefully I will be able to stay committed and consistent.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this and any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

It wasn’t a romance really. Arizona just pretended it had been. A stolen glance here and there; followed by the occasional smile or wink. If it was a particularly special occasion she might have even gotten both. But she had kept hold of this covert courtship through all of the real relationships she had amassed over the years.

Amy.

That was her name.

Amy Shepherd.

After completing her fellowship five years ago, Arizona had departed with the prospect of ever pursuing a liaison with the object of her desires. The, now distant, memory existed purely as an escape; to extricate her from her seemingly dismal reality.

So when a familiar face began working at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, she was reimmersed in her childish fantasies. The daydreams, the pre-planned conversations; they all came flooding back.

Whenever she was available to, Arizona slunk around the Neuro Surgery department, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman now known as Amelia Shepherd. Sometimes she’d hear her voice or see her mahogany hair, but she still couldn’t formulate a reason to approach her.

Secretly, she hoped that a kid with a tumour would come in or for a school bus to crash just so they could be locked in a room together for numerous hours at a time, where they could discuss their historic flirtation with a shared nostalgia.

Her phone lit up. “911 ER”

As the pages were issued throughout the hospital, the floor began to shake; dozens of doctors, primarily residents and interns, scrambling down to the bottom floor in hopes of being assigned the grimmest and most interesting trauma cases.

After a small dash, Arizona found herself amidst the chaos that had been imparted upon the hospital just moments ago.

“Six with critical injuries, twenty with minor and ten to still be assessed,” called a voice. It most likely belonged to Owen but there was too much commotion for Arizona to be certain.

She pushed her way through the selection of nurses, doctors and PAs that blocked her path to Trauma One.

She thrust the door open.

“What do we have?” She asked.

“Bus crash. Wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and went flying to the front of the aisle,” replied April, one of the two ginger trauma surgeons. “He’s lost consciousness.”

“Pupils are equal and responsive.”

The air began to be infected by rapid beeping, produced by the monitors.

“He’s in V-Fib. Charge to 200.” April grabbed the defibrillator paddles from the cart and pressed them to his chest. “Clear.”

His entire body jerked. 

Still no regular rhythm.

“Charge again.” She, once again, pressed the paddles to his chest. “Clear.”

The monitor beside him began to beep at a regular rhythm: once every thirty or so seconds. 

He began to part his eyelids.

“W- Where am I?” The small boy croaked out. “What’s happening?”

“You’re at the hospital; you were in an accident,” replied Arizona. “Can you tell me what your name is, honey?”

“Dylan.”

“Okay, Dylan, we’re gonna try and get you fixed up.” She imparted a comforting smile to him.

She shone a light into his pupils which was followed by a subsequent wince from the boy.

“Does that hurt?” Dylan nodded his head. Arizona raised her right hand and extended her middle and index fingers. “Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?”

After a brief period of squinting, Dylan fairly confidently said, “four.”

“He’s photophobic and has double vision. Someone page Neuro and get a head CT, it could be a ruptured aneurysm.”

Arizona quickly exited the room and scuttled across the hall to Trauma Two. 

Promptly after her arrival, an intern burst in with some X-rays. 

“It’s a pneumothorax,” called Arizona. “Edwards, insert a chest tube.”

Stephanie traced down the girl’s chest to the fifth intercostal space where she made an incision. She then proceeded to insert the tube into the new opening.

“Good job, Edwards.” 

Arizona entered the hallway to catch her breath when a Dr Amelia Shepherd burst through the door of Trauma One with Dylan on a gurney.

“He’s got a ruptured aneurysm,” she shouted. “Can someone page Peds?”

“I’m Peds,” Arizona yelled.

“Then come scrub in.”

Arizona pursued the woman and her gurney into the elevator before ascending to the fourth floor.

Immediately as the doors separated and the bell chimed, they came rushing out and made for OR two.

As the nurses and interns prepared the surgical field, the two attendings vigorously attacked the bacteria on their hands and wrists with soap and a sponge. Subconsciously, both women performed the scrubbing ritual they’d been taught at Johns Hopkins: wet the palms, right over left, left over right, palm to palm, clasped, thumbs, fingertips, elbows.

“It’s your first week, right?” asked Arizona despite knowing the answer.

“Yeah, I just moved from LA.” Amelia’s entire body moved with each scrub.

“Well, I hope you can get used to the weather. Seattle’s a lot wetter than you’re probably used to.” Arizona had completed sterilising her hands and arms so she had them raised above her waist. “Welcome to Grey Sloan Memorial, Amy.”

Clipping a ruptured aneurysm was nothing special. Amelia knew the procedure like clockwork. She made the incision and the burr holes and removed the bone flap. 

“You called me Amy. No one calls me Amy, except my brother.” Amelia searched for the aneurysm.

“The last time I heard, everyone called you Amy and you wouldn’t accept anything else.”

“The last time you heard?” Amelia’s face contorted itself to convey her purplexment. “You’ve heard about me?”

“Well, it was kind of my job to see how you were doing.”

“Your job? Who did you work for, my mom?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what? You’re kinda freaking me out a bit here.”

Arizona made a sound that, to Amelia, was impossible to distinguish as a scoff or a chuckle. She decided it was both.

“We uh- we worked together at Hopkins.” Arizona closed her eyes and shook her head as if to convince herself she was lucid. 

“We did?”

Arizona nodded with a smile of incredulity. “We did. I was a couple years ahead, but we did.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you.” Amelia’s voice had a touch of contrition to it.

“You could always make it up to me.” Amelia tilted her head up to eye Arizona suspiciously. “Let me take you out for a drink.” 

Amelia cleared her throat, “a drink?”

“To catch up. That’s all it is.”

“I can handle a drink.” This was said not only as a confirmation of plans but also as a bid to reassure herself of her capabilities; after all, it had been over a year. 

She tried to oust the memories she thought on with disdain as she placed the clip within the turns and folds of Dylan’s brain. She couldn’t think about Ryan or Hailey or the intervention. She had to focus: visualise the aneurysm and the clip.

“The clip is in place. Reinserting the bone flap.” 

The OR became consumed by the sound of the electronic screwdriver being used to secure the flap to the skull. It left no space for Amelia’s unwanted thoughts.

“Nice job, Dr Shepherd. I’m off at eight; I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah.” Amelia took in a deep breath. “I’ll see you then.”

Three hours.

Amelia had three hours to assuage her fears before jeopardising herself for the sake of a foreign acquaintance. Or, instead, she could try to escape the commitment altogether.

She sauntered down the halls to the surgical board where she discovered the OR schedule was fully booked. She drifted down to the ER in hopes of a trauma falling into her lap, but it was just non-critical remnants of the bus crash. There was no way she could evade meeting Arizona for drinks.

“It’s just drinks,” Amelia told herself. “You don’t need to order Alcohol; she’ll understand. But maybe she won’t. She could ask questions and what would I tell her? I’m an alcoholic- and ex-substance abuser that nearly let her addiction ruin her surgical career? It’s too much to absorb at once. I could- I could... I could have one drink and say that Derek was expecting me at home. It would just be one drink and I can handle that. It would avoid any awkward questions and still fulfil any obligations I may have. One drink.”


	2. I’ve Fallen By the Wayside Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia and Arizona go to a bar to catch-up on life.

She stopped. She stared into the bar, a void of regret and undoing that was too busy to stare back. Amelia could smell the sweet stench of alcohol from inside and it lured her in without any external prompts.

They managed to seize a booth in the quieter side, further away from the bar, where the only distraction was Arizona. 

It had been a while. She needed to pledge to stay in control. No more than one under any circumstances. No dancing on the bar and definitely no falling off the bar. All this drink will do is reassure her of her new found strength.

“What do you want? I’m paying.” Arizona asked.

“Uhh...” Amelia only just realised she hadn’t actually thought this far. “Vodka tonic.”

“Coming right up.” She flashed a reassuring smile with an extremely temporary effect.

Amelia’s eyes darted around, quickly catching glimpses of alcoholics, girls in bars, pool tables and dozens and dozens of bottles filled with alcohol. The weight of each sight seemed to press on her chest, shortening her breaths slightly. She wanted- needed to leave but she was trapped and enclosed in this nightmarish house of temptation with nothing to do but succumb to past habits.

Noticing the discomfort Amelia was experiencing, Arizona said, “Hey, are you okay?”

Preceded by a brief moment of dissociation, Amelia responded, “yeah. I’m good- I’m perfect.” 

Arizona gently placed herself on the teal, cushioned seat opposite Amelia. As the brunette averted her gaze from the obstacle placed before her, the blonde’s eyes lingered wistfully on the face of her acquaintance. Her survey traced from the soft skin of her forehead to the gentle arch of her brows all the way down to her rose tinted lips. Arizona’s focus broke when the object of her study shifted to face her.

“So,” Amelia cleared her throat. “What’ve you been up to since Hopkins?” 

“You know the usual stuff: had a kid, got married, lost a leg in a plane crash and bought the hospital I work at with the money I received for compensation.” Arizona let out a nervous chuckle at her own joke.

“Right. Yeah, I forgot about that. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Arizona pushed her head and her shoulders forward and shook her head. “There’s no use in being sorry.”

“How’s your husband? Is he nice?” Amelia started to pick at the skin on her nails.

“Wife. And we’re divorced.”

Amelia caught herself before she apologised for asking.

“What about you? Anyone in your life? Any kids?”

One dead fiance.

One dead baby.

One fiance she abandoned.

“I had a fiance when I was in LA, but it didn’t work out.” Following some inner conflict, she resolved that now was the time to take a sip of the past. Of Ryan. Of Christopher. The bodies and the baggage she’d been neglecting to abandon.

As the vodka tonic caressed her lower lip, forgetting them became less painful and looking forward seemed plausible.

“How come?” Arizona tilted her head and drew a subtle smile as she asked this.

“I- uh- wasn’t ready for it.” Another swig flowed down her oesophagus. “So I came here.”

“Well, I hope I can make your escape as enjoyable as possible.” She winked and saluted like a stewardess. For the first time since Hopkins, Amelia exposed her genuine smile to Arizona: dorky, unashamed and free.

Amelia’s glass emptied and stole away her self-control. Left behind was ‘fun Amelia’; the one that partied till dawn, strutted atop bars and inhaled prescription opioids like they were oxygen. 

Everybody loves fun Amelia. But nobody likes her.

The pair imbibed two more rounds before fun Amelia began to induce a fun Arizona. 

They were dangerous together. Amelia’s predisposition to impulsivity and Arizona’s newfound absolution had the potential for calamitous repercussions. However, their combined vivacity distracted from the discernible red flags. 

Through the attention, tumult, men and inebriation Arizona could see Amelia. All of the insecurities and doubts she kept repressed came spilling out as she flirted, danced and drank with a large number of the men occupying the bar.

“Hey, Arizona.” The addressee smiled in acknowledgement. “Come here.”

Arizona carefully strutted across the floor, conscious of her intoxicated state. The swarm of ineligible suitors parted way to the woman who called her. Amelia stepped forward into Arizona and wrapped her arms around her waist. Arizona placed her hands onto Amelia’s face. Their heads tilted clockwise and they slowly pulled each other into soft kiss. 

Cheering erupted from around them as their embrace continued, slowly becoming increasingly intimate. 

As the uproar reached its climax the women disjoined; while their heads drew apart their eyes briefly met and the world ceased movement. 

“Bar’s closing” yelled the Landlord, which was followed by subsequent groaning from the patrons. The fleeting moment disappeared and the world kept turning.

“I don’t think you should drive tonight.” suggested Arizona.

“You are probably right.”

“I’m definitely right. You can sleep at my place.”

Amelia attempted to make her way to the exit but was interrupted by her absence of balance. “Is it close?”

“Very.”

With some aid from each other, Amelia and Arizona evacuated the establishment and headed eastbound to find the humble apartment with the blue door.

Apparently, the streets of Seattle are particularly crisp at four in the morning. The street lamps had been extinguished, leaving only the moonlight for guidance through the dark.

“So this ex-wife of yours; she nice?” Amelia asked as she turned her head.

Arizona tittered, “yeah. She’s nice,” her voice sounded almost sorrowful. “You might have met her, actually. She works in the hospital. Ortho. Some might call her an Ortho God. I know I would-“

“You’ll have to introduce me.” Amelia cut Arizona off before her rambling progressed any further. 

They walked or ,more accurately, stumbled down the empty, grey streets until they reached a black door hiding a lobby and some stairs.

“This is it.” She fumbled around her pockets and her bag in search of her keys, until she heard their jingle. She drew them from her coat and insert them into the slot (with some degree of difficulty). The lock turned with the key and Arizona pushed on the door, revealing what was once sealed away.

After a small trek up several flights of stairs, the pair arrived at Arizona’s apartment, that she had previously shared with her ex-wife and child, filled with unopened boxes.

“How recent was this divorce?” Amelia said as she made a questioning face at the blonde.

“Too recent for me to have someone else in my apartment.” This was followed by a sigh. “You can sleep on the couch.” 

“Awh. But that’s no fun.” 

Arizona tilted her head and flashed her widened eyes at Amelia. “Couch.”

“Fine. Fine.” Amelia waved her hands in innocence. “But just remember that it was your idea.”

Arizona walked to the bedroom across the living room and collapsed on to the double bed. 

“Fuck.”


End file.
